Scenes of a Mature Nature
by cutepet
Summary: The Watsons and the Holmeses are all happily married. What's a little sex among friends? The evolution of a polyamorous relationship, told through scenes.


_Author's Note: _

_This story will not have a plot, merely suggest one. The idea is that these four amazing creatures are discovering that love doesn't always come in 2X2 boxes. I plan to devote at least one scene per combination (and already have a few planned out). Don't worry, I'll post the partners before each chapter so you can skip one you don't particularly like._

_As an introductory chapter, this will be longer than most and have more pairings. You'll see:_

_Mary/Molly_

_Sherlock/John/Mary/Molly_

_John/Molly_

_Sherlock/Mary &_

_Sherlock/Molly/Mary_

_**ssssssssssss**_

"I can't help but be worried," Molly Holmes said as she bit her lip and nervously gripped her poplin skirt, "the case should have been finished ages ago." She refilled her glass of wine, if only to have something to do with her hands.

They had been planning this dinner party for weeks. It was John and Mary Watson's second anniversary, and they wanted to celebrate as adults. Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to take Isabelle for the evening, but John and Sherlock were still out on a case that came in the day before. No doubt they would saunter in scruffed up and bruised.

Mary let out a soft laugh, "Oh let them have their fun, Molly. With Izzy walking now, and you and Sherlock still in your honeymoon period," with this she winked, making Molly blush, "they haven't had much time for adventure. Besides," she moved closer on the couch, "this gives us some much needed time for girl talk. So tell me, how's the sex?" she asked, nose crinkling up.

Molly laughed lightly._. _"Oh, the sex, well, uh - "

"I never believed any of those articles from Janine, she could always make up a good story, but you know the truth of it and I've often watched him and wondered." She looked over at her friend, watching her with mouth agape. "Oh please, you know as well as anyone he cuts a nice figure in those designer suits, I can't help but look. You mean to tell me you don't fantasize about other men?" Molly's eyes widened, and she looked away quickly, but Mary noticed a sly smile. "Oh, you have, haven't you? Who?" she shook her head. "You know you have to tell me, now that you have my curiosity peaked."

Molly finished her fourth glass in one gulp, then refilled from a fast emptying second bottle of red. She paused, then took another gulp. With the half empty glass in her hand, she finally turned to Mary, "You asked about our sex life? Well, lately we've been - " a hesitation, " - fantasizing a lot. About John, and about you."

Mary sat, her turn to be gobsmacked and speechless.

"I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry, I'll just - " Molly put her glass back on the table and stood up, "I'll just go. Don't worry, I'll text Sherlock and tell him to come home to 221B. It's late anyway, I should be getting - " before she could grab her coat from the hallway, Mary took hold of her arm, twirling Molly around to face her. Their gazes met briefly before Mary's lowered to her mouth and Molly knew it was coming a moment before their lips met.

It was just a soft brushing, at first, but soon Molly's lips were pushing at Mary's mouth to open a little, and as their heads tilted to deepen the kiss, Mary gently caressed Molly's sides.

Their lips broke apart, "Have you ever done anything like this before?" Molly shook her head.

"I kissed a girl once, in uni, but she wasn't - she didn't see me the same way," she moved further into Mary's embrace, "Have you?"

She just nodded, kissing her again; this time, as their tongues brushed against each other, they both moaned. When Mary pulled their bodies flush together, Molly brought her hand up to stroke Mary's heart-shaped face, and then further into her cropped blonde hair, slightly pulling as the embrace turned passionate. Her other hand rose up, slightly brushing Mary's nipple before cupping her full breast and slightly pinching the hardened nub she found. She felt a surge of pride as Mary gasped against her mouth, nudging Molly closer to the wall until she felt her back hit the wood panelling.

Finally breaking the kiss, Mary braced Molly's wrists above her head, against the wall, and began nuzzling, sucking on the pulse point at the base of her neck and flicking the sensitive area behind her right ear. Instinctively, Molly brought her left leg up, brushing Mary's hip with her knee, and gave a euphoric "Please.".

"Oh, you like that, do you? Naughty," she said, bringing the fingers of her right hand to Molly's lips, "That's right, make them nice and wet, good girl." When she was satisfied, she replaced the digits with her searing lips while she trailed the hand up the inside of Molly's thigh, stopping when she didn't find the expected cotton barrier.

"We never seem to make it home before…" Molly found herself blushing, "...it just makes it easier in the taxi if I don't…" she looked down, slightly embarrassed.

Mary released her wrists to cup her cheek, bringing them eye to eye again, "I think it's sexy, and what's more," she started, kissing the corners of her lips before renewing her attentions between Molly's thighs, "I like how wet you are for me," she moved her lips back to Molly's ear, "You didn't need to lick my fingers at all, did you? You're positively dripping," she purred as she slid her fingers between Molly's lips, teasing before finally pushing in, using her thumb to circle her clit.

Molly's eyes rolled back as she once again tangled her fingers into her friend's hair, holding on as Mary continued to whisper dirty things, her hot breath brushing over the erogenous point just above the shell of her ear. Her fingers, more delicate than a man's, kept a steady rhythm that Molly's hips echoed, undulating against Mary's thigh. She could no longer distinguish the words, but Mary's urgings pushed her on until she reached that point and she was gasping her release into her lover's mouth.

Mary pulled away, resting her forehead against the younger woman's, panting. Then she laughed, "That was…"

"...brilliant. Mary?"

"Yes?"

"Is it my turn now?"

"God, yes," and with that, Mary grabbed Molly's hand and pulled her into the master suite.

_**ssssssssssss**_

John jumped out of the taxi, leaving Sherlock to pick up the fare this time.

"Oh, the missus will not be pleased,"

Sherlock Holmes didn't mention that taking the case was all Mrs. Watson's idea in the first place. "Well, we're here now. Come along, John."

Walking into the quiet living room, the crime fighting duo were immediately concerned. An opened wine bottle, almost done but not quite, and two glasses of varying fullness were still on the otherwise empty table.

Sherlock almost gave into the panic that was already set into John's face before he heard the soft moan coming from the back of the flat.

"Where are they - oh my God, Sherlock, did someone take them? Where's my g-" John stopped, angling his ear.

Sherlock put his finger to his lips and pointed to the drawer of John's secretary, then beckoned with his fingers. _Be quiet, gun is in the secretary desk, follow my lead._

"Mmm, Christ!" The moaning was getting louder as they stalked closer to the bedroom door. "Molly, yes."

Sharing a brief look of confusion and a nod from John to continue, Sherlock nudged the door open slightly with the toe of his shoe. There, on the bed, were their wives in a compromising position.

Sherlock didn't know how long he stared before John, having finally recognized the sounds of his wife in the throes of passion, nudged him aside to open the door wider. Molly was too busy to notice the intrusion; she was on her back, legs spread wide with her right knee slightly bent, her arousal evident and shiny on her inner thighs. Her arms were wrapped around Mary's bent legs, hands splayed over her hips. All Sherlock saw of her face were Mary's juices, mixed with Molly's saliva, running down her chin, as the rest of it was firmly planted in Mary's…

_Ahem._

Sherlock and Molly had certainly talked - at length - about their fantasies involving the Watsons, but neither thought the opportunity would arise to fulfill them. Mrs. Watson appeared amenable to the new arrangement. Bent backwards, her arms were braced behind her on the bed, hands on either side of Molly's head. The position thrust her chest out, putting her breasts on display. Sherlock had watched Mary's bust grow during her pregnancy in appreciation, and he was glad to see she hadn't lost all of it. It was one of his favorite physical traits about her; now he saw the soft pink of her areolas, the hardness of her nipples, begging to be pinched and licked.

John, having recovered from the shock faster, pushed smoothly past him, reengaged the safety before putting his gun on the dresser, then tore off his jacket as he approached his wife, taking her weight off her arms and into his, kissing her deeply. His fingers pulled at her straining nipples.

"No, don't stop," Mary breathed as Molly began to pull away, "Please. Please keep going - oh," her moans getting louder as the good doctor bent to suckle on her breast. 

Blue eyes pierced his and Sherlock found himself moving toward her beckoning arm; he was climbing onto the bed, on his knees, to take Mary's other breast in his mouth, cupping the fullness in his hand and flicking the tip with his tongue. He looked into her eyes as she violently shuddered in their arms, cumming beautifully.

Mary, as delicately as one could in the situation, leaned back so Molly could disentangle herself from between her thighs. Sitting up, naked and beautiful and flushed, she looked at John, then Sherlock, and he could see the trepidation in the eyes of the woman he'd chosen to spend the rest of his life with.

Before Molly could say anything, Sherlock pulled her close, tasting the tangy musk of Mary's sex as he kissed her hard.

_**ssssssssssss**_

John Watson took in a breath of air. It wasn't half a gulp, to be honest.

Sherlock was kissing his wife in his bed.

Correction: He was licking Molly Holmes' face in his marital bed.

His best friend, Sherlock Holmes, was licking Mary Watson's juices off Molly's chin. In John's bed.

Dr. John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, was incredibly turned on.

He turned toward Mary, sated for now, and smiled fondly at her crinkled nose. Then her head tilted toward Molly, silently telling him to get on with it.

She knew about his little Molly fantasy, and they'd spent a few fun nights whispering beneath sheets about this very possibility, but John never thought it would happen.

He turned back to his friends, who were now having their own nonverbal conversation. Someone needed to take charge of the situation, and who better than -

"Right then," Mary sat up, sidled next to the brunette, and whispered into her ear. Molly nodded, biting her lip, and kissed his wife deeply before approaching him.

She picked up his hand and gently caressed the rough pads of his fingers, then brought them to her lips and sucked them past her soft lips and into her warm mouth. It wasn't until she brought his hand down to cup her breast that he was able to move.

With a groan, he pulled her closer, grabbing her ass and claiming her in a hard kiss. Behind her, John could hear that deep voice explaining exactly what he was going to do to his Mary, and he knew this bed was about to get very full.

John led Molly to the small settee next to the window, sitting down first, then pulling her down onto his lap with both hands squeezing the cheeks he'd admired from afar.

In this position, they could both see Mary kissing Sherlock's throat as she unbuttoned him, his jacket already discarded and crumpled on the floor. Molly's thighs clenched around John's hips, and her hands fumbled with his belt as she ground against him. His cock hardened even more in appreciation.

He turned to his best friend's wife, seeing her in a way he had only imagined before. When she finally freed him, grasping his shaft with her small capable hands, he closed his eyes with a pleasurable sigh. With a swirl of her thumb against his tip, she was using his natural lubricant as she lightly sped up her ministrations.

"Talk to me. Tell me what they're doing, Molly. What do you see?" His calloused hands found hips and gripped them tight.

"M-Mary, she's rubbing Sherlock through his trousers," she stuttered, obviously as affected as he, "He's touching her -" she faltered again, turning her face into his, brushing her nose against his cheek.

"Here?" John asked, bringing his hand up to rub between her folds.

"Yes," a breath against his temple.

John pushed her hand away from his groin, pulling Molly forward to rub the delicious wetness he found between her legs directly against his cock. She mewed.

"Oh, she must've found the spot on Sherlock's neck - he just toppled her," she pulled back slightly, then gently lowered herself onto his cock, "he's fucking her," Molly half-growled as she seated herself fully, then began slowly rocking.

Christ she felt good. Her warm heat surrounded him and he opened his eyes to see her head thrown back, the tips of her hair brushing his thighs. She had one hand on his knee and the other around his neck, her lips parted as she silently and unabashedly took her pleasure.

"Molly. Molly look at me," clouded brown eyes opened to him. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around his shoulders, and used the new position to begin thrusting into her. "I've wanted you for a while now," her gaze finally focused on his and he groaned when she squeezed around him.

"So have I. Wanted you, that is," she stopped, using the inner muscles of her pussy to massage his cock.

"You came in to the lab once," she continued, stomach quivering under his touch as he positioned his fingers to massage her clit, "some boring afternoon, looking for Sherlock. I'd dropped my favorite pen, and you came up behind me -" her breathing sped up and she began to move her hips again.

"You thought you were alone, you didn't think anyone would see you," she blushed, "oh, I remember."

He started thrusting again, moving to the languid rhythm Molly had set for them. "You were stretching to reach it, far under the table, and I could see the tops of the stockings and just a hint of pink cotton." In reality, at that point, he'd coughed to announce his presence and she pulled back quickly, blushing and pulling her skirt down. He wanted her then but he was with Jeanette and he knew Molly loved Sherlock - and he knew Sherlock was greatly attached to Molly. "I wanted to taste you so badly." She kissed him.

John broke away, then leaned forward to lick the sweat from her collarbone, becoming lost in the sensation of Molly, all around him, and sped up his thrusts. She leaned in, whispering frantically in his ear.

"He's flipped her over now, rutting her like an animal, squeezing her nipples. I wanted you to take me like that, that day. I wanted you between my legs, thrusting in from behind."

"Did you want me to pull your hair?" he reached up, bunching the strands in his fingers, and tugged. "Did you want me to ride you?"

"Yes, God, yes. I can hear her cumming." she shuddered and lowered her voice even more. "I can still taste her cumming."

"Oh fuck, Molly, cum. For me, luv." he was going to cum, he could feel it. He brought his fingers back up to her clit, but this time it was just the right amount of pressure before she was crying out above him, milking his orgasm from him, collapsing in his arms.

_**ssssssssssss**_

Mary gripped the duvet beneath her hands. Her gasps turned into moans turned into soft cries and Sherlock could tell her orgasm was fast approaching. To his left, his wife was building up to her release, and he sped up his thrusts to match her movements. Everything slowed down as he focused on John's hands, clenching and unclenching his hold on Molly's hips.

Then it sped up, impossibly fast as the smell of sex all around him assaulted his olfactory senses and the moans and gasps and curses were booming in his ears.

He closed his eyes to the onslaught, thrusting hard into Mary's warm heat, holding himself there, collecting his bearings.

_Ssssh. Focus. There. That's better._ Irene's voice, the memory of a sculpted fingernail down his cheek.

"Sherlock, darling, please. Move, please," Mary's voice reached him, her hips rotating against his pelvis, her arm reaching back to grasp his thigh.

He looked down at her, on her knees and prone for him, before sliding his hands up her creamy back, bending over to feel it against his chest, finally reaching around to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples, the way he'd already discovered she liked, and began thrusting.

This time, her hips met his with every push, give and take and he focused on the rhythm, and the smell of her hair and the weight in his hands and her soft gasps and he could feel it, the sensation in his scrotum that signalled his release, but then she came around him and the pulses and her cries and John and Molly behind him and it was just too much. Sherlock pulled out, resting his forehead between Mary's shoulder blades, panting. He was still half-hard, unsatisfied.

Mary softly collapsed under his weight, landing skillfully with their bodies positioned on their sides, but he extricated himself from her embrace, agitated and embarrassed.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Across the room, Molly sat up from John's post-coital embrace, "Everything all right, mate?" His friend turned a concerned look to him. They were all talking and asking and they always do that and why is it so loud? Behind their voices he could hear a car alarm down the street - he began pacing, furiously grabbing his hair - and a dog barking in the park, on a stroll with their owner, probably just being used as an excuse for a midnight assignation with a lover and CAN I GET A BIT OF -

"Ssssh, Sherlock, it's okay." Molly stood in front of him now; had he said all that out loud? "It's a lot to take in, yea? Let me help," she trailed her lips down his chest as she positioned herself on her knees. Her soft hands reached out, grabbing his penis with a slight squeeze before leaning forward to take him into her mouth.

She moaned around him, her tongue coming out to taste him, taste him and Mary and did she taste like John and it was too much, too much and he gently pushed off, retreating a step, hoping she could read the apology in his eyes before he braced himself against the wall trying to recover his senses.

He heard movement behind him, then Mary, in a decisive voice, "Sherlock, look at me." He shook his head. It was too much.

"Look at me, Sherlock, listen to my voice and look at me."

He turned, but was halted before he could admonish her. She had positioned herself behind Molly, both women on their knees, and was deftly, lightly, fingering Molly's nipples. He turned his head to John, but "No, here. Look at me, look at your wife. She's beautiful," at this, she began rubbing with the palm of her hand, Molly laying her head onto Mary's shoulder with a sigh, "and so responsive. Sherlock, I want you to stroke yourself."

He started to fight it, but noticed he had been holding his penis, and with Mary's command, was becoming excited again. He squeezed gently as he started to masturbate himself.

"Good, that's right." She kissed Molly's neck, then moved one hand between her legs. "So ripe, so ready. I bet you love playing with your wife. Have you kissed every inch of her skin yet? So sweet," watching his pathologist on display, concentrating on Mary's voice and ministrations, and Sherlock was once again close to orgasm.

"She has magnificent tits, don't you think? Do you want to cum on them," she asked coolly, making Molly gasp, rocking against Mary's hand jutting her small, but ample, chest out further in invitation. All he could do was nod as he positioned himself over his supple wife. He felt the tingling again, at the base of his cock, and he sped up his tempo. He gasped loudly, the orgasm powerful, and fell forward slightly as he watched his ejaculate spray all over her chest. Sherlock fell back onto the bed when he finished, unable to stay on his feet, releasing the clutch he had on Molly's hair.

He sat, catching his breath, and watched Mary turn Molly in her arms, and lick his efforts off her breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples, tugging with her teeth as she efficiently brought Molly off, one last time, finishing with a sloppy kiss.

They embraced, breathless, affectionately brushing noses and cheeks, and quietly giggling. Sherlock smiled with them.

"Well, I don't know about you three, but I could use a drink," John said, sprawled out on the settee. This time, they all shared in the laughter.


End file.
